


compass

by silverwings11



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Character Study, Exile, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-06
Updated: 2020-12-06
Packaged: 2021-03-10 05:15:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,981
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27908839
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/silverwings11/pseuds/silverwings11
Summary: “Tommy,” Techno finally says, his voice tightly controlled. His stare hasn’t broken away from his portrait, like he’s determined not to make eye contact. “Where’s Phil?”Or: The exile goes a little less smoothly, and Phil gives Tommy a compass.
Relationships: Technoblade & Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), Technoblade & TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF)
Comments: 10
Kudos: 256





	1. Tommy

**Author's Note:**

> inspired by this tweet: https://twitter.com/tamatojam/status/1334622148175007745
> 
> almost all of this was written before the actual exile stream and then i changed a couple details to be more accurate, so yay canon divergence
> 
> beta read by seattlerain :)

When Tommy shows up at Technoblade’s northern cabin in the dead of night, shaking and panting, compass glowing purple in one hand and nearly-shattered sword white-knuckled in the other, Techno lets him in wordlessly.

Even when faced with the traitor, all Tommy can feel right then is relief.

He collapses bonelessly to the ground as soon as the door shuts behind him. Still silent, Techno stiffly offers him a bowl of rabbit stew. Tommy barely has the strength to even take it, but he does so anyway, letting the compass and his sword fall from his hands to spruce floorboards. He hardly tastes the stew as he swallows it down in huge gulps. Going through the motions, letting the food heal his weary body. Because really, what else can he do?

They say nothing for a few minutes. Techno is standing on the other side of the room, arms crossed, leaning against the wall. Tommy hasn’t seen him since he spawned the Withers in L’Manberg.

_Well, he seems to be doing just fine,_ Tommy thinks with a faint stab of bitterness. He’d seen a farm with frostbitten leaves nearby as he’d approached the cabin — probably potato plants, knowing Techno. 

Maybe it’s childish, but Tommy can’t help feeling it’s unfair that Techno should be able to hide away from the chaos in isolation when he was the one that created it.

Techno is only standing a few metres away, but the distance between them seems barely traversable, as though there’s a chasm between the two.

_Then again,_ Tommy supposes, _been there, done that._

Flames crackle in Techno’s fireplace. Its warmth is much needed, but Tommy hates the sound of it. He screws his eyes tightly shut for a moment, and leans his head against the wall. He’d thought he’d lost everything before, after the election, after the festival, after the revolution; but there’s always a new low, always.

Because every time he thinks things can’t get worse than they already have, they do. Because somehow, he inevitably finds himself in situations where he has nowhere to turn. Because Tommy is sitting here, in the home of the man who has twice killed—

_The discs don’t matter, Tommy! How can you not see that?!_ … _You’re a liability. You need to leave, now._

_You’re my friend!_

_…_

Well.

_Not that friendship matters to_ him _anymore now, right?_

God, he’s fucking tired.

Tommy opens his eyes and stares blankly at his surroundings, too exhausted from hours of running to process most of it. There’s a ladder that leads upstairs and downstairs. A lodestone is directly opposite where he’s sitting. He vaguely registers that it must be what the compass was linked to. He hadn’t known where it would take him. Honestly, he’s not sure he would’ve come if he had. When the compass was pressed with urgency into his hand, Tommy had just hoped that he wouldn’t be screwed over for what feels like the billionth time.

Tommy looks up, and there’s a portrait of Techno on the wall, majestic as shit, and it almost makes him laugh, because _of course_ there is. And the man himself is staring at it too, fixating his gaze upon it intently like it’s the only thing he can allow himself to do.

“Tommy,” Techno finally says, his voice tightly controlled. His stare hasn’t broken away from his portrait, like he’s determined not to make eye contact. “Where’s Phil?”

Tommy finds that the edge of grief in Techno’s voice is enough to sap him of any antagonism. He hasn’t forgiven Techno for what he’s done, not yet. Actually, he’s pretty sure he never will. But he doesn’t _hate_ him. And he doesn’t have it in him to be cruel, not today.

He wonders for a moment if he should lie.

“And _don’t_ lie to me, Tommy, _I swear to God_. I gave him that compass— I— He wouldn’t—”

And Techno turns to him with eyes so wild that Tommy is jolted out of his fatigue, the instinct to _run, run, run_ kicking in. Maybe coming here was a mistake. _Out of the frying pan, into the fire._ How many more times can he jump from one out-of-control situation to the next before he burns?

Tommy’s hand drifts to the hilt of his discarded sword, the movement practically ingrained within him. 

Techno catches the uncertain motion and seems to steel himself, walling off his emotions once again. In another timeline, Tommy might have taken offence at that — he’s not some frightened animal to be placated. Now though, he feels strangely comforted that at least one person isn’t out for his blood.

“Phil said he would only use it if he was desperate.”

“Yeah, Technoblade,” Tommy says — getting to his feet and hoping the action will calm his beating heart. "He was.”

“Is he dead?”

The question stated point blank startles him. _Jesus, Techno really doesn’t beat around the bush, does he?_

“I don’t know,” Tommy says honestly. _Helplessly._ “I was exiled. There was a fight. He also— Phil, um, he also gave me one of these.”

He pulls an emerald out of his coat pocket and offers it to Techno.

Techno takes it, his expression unreadable, turns it over in his hands. Looking at Techno these days, and trying to understand him, Tommy thinks he may as well be a stranger.

“Alright,” Techno says softly, more to himself than to Tommy. “Alright.”

Techno puts the emerald into his ender chest. When he shuts it, he doesn’t turn around for a long moment, tension clear in every line of him. Tommy feels uncomfortable. Like he shouldn’t be seeing this.

He should say something, shouldn’t he?

“I’m sorry, Techno. I really am.”

Techno ignores him. Turning around, face carefully blank, he moves past Tommy, climbing down the ladder. Tommy curiously watches from above as Techno lifts away the stone bricks on the lower floor, revealing another ladder leading even further down the house.

“You’re sleepin’ in the basement. I’m not housin’ a fugitive without precautions.”

Contrary to popular belief, Tommy does understand the social cues of when to back down. “You’re not kicking me out?” he asks, instead of _I care about Phil too_ or _I know what it's like_. He tries for a grin. It feels forced. “Not that I’m kick-outable.” 

“Just get in the basement before I change my mind.”

“Okay, okay.”

Tommy climbs down the ladder, all the way, only to be met with a cow, a skeleton, and a zombified piglin. To be fair, the piglin and the skeleton are behind glass, but—

“I’m not sleeping with a fuckin’ cow!” Tommy protests. It moos plaintively. 

“His name is Bob.” Techno deadpans. “He’s friendly.”

“He’s not friendly, he’s a bloody cow!”

Techno is already climbing back up the ladder. “Goodnight, Tommy.”

Before everything, Tommy might’ve laughed incredulously at that, might’ve grabbed his arm and said, _hang on a minute, you can’t just say goodnight and leave me here_ , and Techno might’ve laughed and replied, _I can and I will_.

But now isn’t before. Now it’s after, now it’s the uncomfortable unbreachable silences and the cold feeling within of having been betrayed. Now it’s without their brother. Without Wilbur. 

And now it’s without Phil too.

Sighing, Tommy sits down on the floor. It’s surprisingly clean, considering his roommate. Bob moos again. 

“You sound like Henry,” Tommy tells him.

So this is his new normal. Talking to a cow in the basement of a retired bloodthirsty anarchist.

He’s had to adjust to a lot of new normals.


	2. Techno

Techno wakes up to a loud knocking at the entrance of his cabin. In an instant, he’s wide awake, brain kicking into a protective overdrive. There’s only one person in the world who knows where he lives, who he trusts enough to give a way to find him, who was specifically told to come to him if ever in a time of need.

He opens the door, expecting to see a familiar green-and-white striped hat and a tired smile. Instead, he’s greeted with TommyInnit, looking dead on his feet, gripping the hilt of his battered sword so tightly in one hand it might snap. 

And in his other hand, a compass.

_ Oh. _

Numbly, Techno steps aside to let Tommy in. He shuts the door, and the boy descends to the ground immediately, like the life has been drained out of him all at once. Techno is almost overcome with the urge to pick him up, shake him and demand where the owner of the compass is, if he’s even aliv—

_ Alright. No. _ Techno’s not going there, not yet. He closes his eyes.  _ Okay. Priorities. Tommy, on the ground. He needs to heal. _

Techno stalks over to his chests and pulls out a bowl of rabbit stew he’d traded in the neighbouring village earlier that afternoon. He debates heating it up over the fireplace for a moment, but figures beggars can’t be choosers, and decides not to. He offers it to Tommy. 

Tommy takes it and drinks as though he’s dying of thirst. Though, for all Techno knows, he could be.

Techno glances at Tommy’s sword. It’s a legitimately pathetic thing, completely lacking in craftsmanship, and one wrong swing away from crumbling to pieces. Even so, a weapon is a weapon, and it wouldn’t do to let his guard down for even a second. 

A year ago, Techno wouldn’t even have considered Tommy a threat. But this feral-looking creature who looks as though he has nothing left to lose, and that Techno knows for a fact blames him for half of his life’s problems, well. That’s a different story.

This is the price he pays for having people he loves. A boy who would gladly kill him inches from dropping dead at his doorstep, and an obligation to give him refuge.

Techno stares at the compass Tommy has dropped to the floor. Its pulsating glow feels like a mockery. It’s only been seconds, but suddenly he can’t stand the sight of it, and he crosses back to the other side of the cabin. Ridiculously, he can’t help but feel like a sullen teenager again, going to his side of the room to sulk. Techno reasons with himself, he can’t hover awkwardly over Tommy as he recovers. Maybe before the Festival, he might have. But they haven’t had the same closeness they did as children in a long time.

Especially not after he and Wilbur turned L’Manberg into a crater.

Techno isn’t sorry. He did what he promised. He knows Tommy resents him for it, but he can’t ask for forgiveness,  _ won’t _ ask for forgiveness, for having a moral code. Especially not when it would be hypocritical of Tommy to demand an apology of Techno for the crime of upholding his ideals, when that same righteous streak he has is what lands him in hot water all the time.

The citizens of L’Manberg can call Techno a traitor and blame him for their shortcomings all they want, but it doesn’t matter to him. He knows he’s in the right, and so do the only people he cares about. The only person, singular, he cares about, because he’s the only person who truly cares in return. Because he’s the only friend Techno has left.

_ Phil. _

He feels an indescribable pang in his chest. 

_ Grief, _ his mind first supplies, then,  _ shut up, you don’t know that he’s dead. _

Techno fixes his eyes on the painting of himself on the wall. He’d taken it down when he’d first shown Phil his home, joking to him that it would’ve come across as too narcissistic. That was the day Techno had given him the compass.

_ If you ever need me, Phil—  _

_ I know where to find you. _

This is the price he pays for having people he loves. Some unnameable emotion twisting in his gut and a lump in his throat.

He can’t wait any longer. He needs to know.

“Tommy.” Techno doesn’t look him in the eye. He’s not sure he’s ready to. Tommy wears his heart on his sleeve, and Techno doesn’t think he can take it if he sees his despair mirrored on Tommy’s face. “Where’s Phil?”

Tommy hesitates for a split second too long. Something tiny and fragile in Techno splinters apart. 

“And  _ don’t _ lie to me, Tommy,  _ I swear to God _ . I gave him that compass— I— He wouldn’t—” Techno falters, stumbling over his words, stuttering in his sudden desolation like a fucking child again. He turns to face Tommy. Funny, after all this, how the only ones they can turn to is each other.

Something in Techno’s expression must be too raw, too animalistic, because Tommy jerks nearly imperceptibly, his hand reaching for his sword. 

Techno didn’t mean to do that.

He feels himself shutter off his emotion, through something near instinctual rather than through conscious effort.  _ Compartmentalise. Push it down, then push it down again deeper. _ They’ve been through a lot, Techno and Tommy, and he knows all too well that Tommy loathes the very sight of him now, but that’s still his kid brother, and Techno has to be strong for him.

He exhales, shakier than he’d wanted to. “Phil said he would only use it if he was desperate.”

“Yeah, Technoblade,” Tommy says as he rises up from where he was crumpled. “He was.”

Before he can think too much about it, Techno asks: “Is he dead?”

Tommy blinks. “I don’t know. I was exiled. There was a fight.”

A million accusations lie on the tip of Techno’s tongue.  _ You’re supposed to be a fighter, why didn’t you protect him? _

This is the price he pays for having people he loves. Anger that the people who could have saved them didn’t, and a rage even deeper that he wasn’t there himself.

It suddenly occurs to him that this is Tommy’s fault. Techno had warned him, back during the spawning of the Withers.  _ Exile. _ It’s exactly as he said.

Heroes don’t get happy endings. And apparently, neither do the people who help them. They’re all side characters, in the grand scheme of things. It was always going to be this way — Tommy, the reckless hero, and all his friends the collateral damage around him.

He should turn Tommy away before he’s one of them too.

“He also— Phil, um, he also gave me one of these.”

Tommy reaches into his coat pocket and pulls out an emerald, and any furious self-preservation that Techno has vanishes without a trace. Tommy extends it to Techno. Techno takes it, and turns it over to look at the inscription carved onto its otherwise flawless surface.

_ Friendship Emerald _ .

He comes to an understanding of an inevitability.

“Alright,” Techno breathes.

_ For you, the world, Phil. _

Objectively speaking, harbouring Tommy is a terrible idea, and will end in nothing but more needless violence and bloodshed. This is where Techno finally bites off more than he can chew, this is where Icarus flies too close to the sun. He’s not untouchable — as much as everyone around him seems to believe it, and as much as he wants to pretend to be — and Tommy drags a whirlwind of chaos and destruction behind him wherever he goes. But Techno made a promise.

_ I’ll do whatever it takes to help you. _

He had told Phil once that he didn’t know what he would do if something happened to him.

“Alright.”

_ I’ll keep him safe, for you. And then I’m gettin’ you back, Phil. I’m gettin’ you back. _

Techno gingerly places the emerald into his ender chest. Everything else inside has been tossed in haphazardly, but he can’t bring himself to do the same with this. __

_ Name them, _ Phil had said, _ and then they’ll be more special _ .

For the third time that night, Techno finds himself thoroughly devastated, fractured like spiderweb cracks in glass. He’s lost his last friend. He can’t turn around. He’s certain he’ll break.

“I’m sorry, Techno. I really am.”

Techno ignores Tommy, because he has to.

He moves on autopilot, climbing down the ladder to his lower floor. He feels Tommy’s eyes on him as he hefts stone brick off his hidden opening. Techno calls up: “You’re sleepin' in the basement. I’m not housin' a fugitive without precautions.”

“You’re not kicking me out?” Tommy sounds surprised for the briefest of moments, before switching to a weak parody of his usual overconfidence. “Not that I’m kick-outable.”

What Techno wants to say, is  _ of course I’m not kickin’ you out, protectin’ you was practically Phil’s dyin’ wish. I’m not that heartless. _

He doesn’t say that.

“Just get in the basement before I change my mind.”

“Okay, okay.”

Tommy clambers down, and takes only a half second to survey his surroundings before spluttering, “I’m not sleeping with a fuckin’ cow!”

“His name is Bob. He’s friendly.”

Techno begins to climb back up the ladder again. The weight of everything is beginning to settle onto him like dust. It’s suffocating. He needs to get out.

“He’s not friendly, he’s a bloody cow!”

“Goodnight, Tommy.”

Stepping onto spruce floors again, Techno feels the wild urge to laugh. Had Tommy shown up at his doorstep in literally any other circumstance, he would have turned him away. He would have cackled in Tommy’s face and mocked him for not listening, because  _ Technoblade was right. _

Two tokens of friendship. That’s all it took. A compass and an emerald, almost laughably common items, and here he is, going against every shrieking cell in his body to defend what is probably the polar opposite of self-preservation personified.

Any past versions of himself would call Techno weak, for loving his friend to the point of illogicality. Techno can’t find it in himself to care. This was too much for one night. He wants to fall apart.

Techno picks up the glowing compass Tommy had allowed to clatter to the ground, and nearly does.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> feel free to leave a comment, even if it's just a keysmash :)


End file.
